


Unholy

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Blindfolds, Grace Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sigils, holy oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: “Concentrate on my fingers,” Castiel orders from somewhere closeby, maybe next to his ear, maybe over his lips. Wherever he is, Dean can’t tell, his own moans all he can hear. All the while, Castiel continues to smear some unidentifiable liquid—blood, lube, spit, Dean doesn’t know, doesn’t care—across his chest, over lifelines and scars, all in increasingly disjointed patterns. All of them render him immobile, his limbs seized on the verge of orgasm for minutes at a time, always right there, there.





	

“Concentrate on my fingers,” Castiel orders from somewhere close, maybe next to his ear, maybe over his lips. Wherever he is, Dean can’t tell, his own moans all he can hear. All the while, Castiel continues to smear some unidentifiable liquid—blood, lube, spit, Dean doesn’t know, doesn’t c _are_ —across his chest, over lifelines and scars, all in increasingly disjointed patterns. All of them render him immobile, his limbs seized on the verge of orgasm for minutes at a time, always right there, _there_.

“ _Please_ ,” Dean begs, sweat trickling from beneath the blindfold draped over his eyes, tied behind his head. The ropes around his wrists chafe the longer he twists and writhes, toes curled into the sheets, fingers grasping at nothing. Somehow, he knows Castiel is staring at him with a triumphant smirk, straddling his waist while he continues to paint sigil after sigil across his skin, each one grounding him even further into the fire burning through his veins, searing him alive. And he can’t get enough of it. “ _Please_ , Cas—”

The kiss to his cheek leaves him winded and howling, his skin oversensitive with the thrum of Grace flowing through his body. “Patience,” Castiel coos next to his ear, sneaking another kiss just below it, mouthing along his jaw. If Dean were more cognizant, he could swear Castiel was enjoying this.

Dean just bucks his hips and whines, craving both friction and affection, anything to get him off faster. Between his legs, his cock continues to leak copiously into the crease of his hip, a never-ending flow of precome that’s most certainly staining the comforter. But right now, that’s the last thing on his mind—his utmost priority, trying to rut against Castiel or whatever piece of skin he can find. Still, Castiel keeps away, only existing in voice and the single finger that paints trails across his chest and down to his abdomen, bringing with it seared nerve endings and an undeniable thirst for touch.

“Need you,” Dean pants, twisting his wrists. This earns a reaction; Castiel holds him down by the knot in the rope, now stretched out fully over him, his toes resting atop Dean’s shins. It’s the most contact he’s had in almost half an hour, and Dean will take it for as long as he can. “Wanna come, _c’mon_ —”

“You can wait,” is all Castiel says, and Dean lets out a guttural groan, his head falling back into the pillows. Despite the smugness in Castiel’s tone, he goes on, close to Dean’s lips, “You’re doing so good, Dean. There’s one more, and then I’ll let you come. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Swallowing, Dean nods, frantic. If it’s too much enthusiasm, Castiel doesn’t admonish him for it, just goes back to drawing whatever blasphemous Enochian sigils he knows on Dean’s skin, this one to the hollow of his throat. It burns even hotter than the others, his cock twitching and spurting more precome just from the contact. Whatever it is, it nearly tips Dean over the edge, and Dean shouts when his orgasm crests, yet never fully toppling over.

He’s probably babbling now, senseless words that barely mean anything in English—he would be ashamed of himself if it didn’t feel so good, his hips rocking into the air in search of friction that’ll never come, fingers reaching for something to hold onto, _anything_. Castiel offers him a hand and kisses the final sigil, his smirk a brand against Dean’s overheated, sweating skin. “So good,” Castiel praises, and Dean heats impossibly hotter, his mouth spewing a constant stream of pleas and groans, all containing one name, in full. “You can come,” Castiel kisses him again, this time open mouthed, and licks the sigil away.

Dean has the split second realization that someone else is home before he comes, near violent, his vision black around the edges—that doesn’t stop him from practically screaming though, and only Castiel’s fingers in his mouth muffle the noise while he rides the high, his cock spurting endlessly against his stomach. Even in the aftermath, when his limbs loosen and the sweat begins to cool, he’s still gasping for breath, his heartbeat erratic and pulsing. It takes him another ten minutes to finally come back to reality, all while Castiel kisses him clean and praises him with honeyed lips, more tender than he ever has been, every touch drawing Dean back into his own flesh, knitting him back together, keeping him whole.

After a while, Castiel frees his hands and slips the blindfold off from over his eyes, revealing to Dean a dimly lit bedroom; Dean’s room, the only place in the Bunker where he can unwind behind closed doors without prying eyes. It’s grounding, just as much as Castiel’s touch is, those same hands that unwound him pulling him together, helping him to breathe, to live. “Perfect,” Castiel praises, once again pulling back up to straddle Dean, both hands on Dean’s cheeks, thumbing underneath his eyes where tears spill over. “You’re okay, Dean.”

“I am,” Dean agrees, closing his eyes with a sigh. Leaning down, Castiel kisses each lid, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, chin, ending at his lips. Dean soaks all of it in and smiles, even when Castiel pulls off to fall onto his side, bringing his arms around Dean’s waist. “God,” he stops, licks his lips, “you gotta tell me what you did.”

Against his neck, Castiel smothers a laugh. “No one ever said our language was pure. If I manipulate the sigils enough, I can give you pleasure unlike you’ve ever felt.” He smirks, nips at Dean’s earlobe with heated breath; Dean flushes down to his chest, his already soft and sensitive cock attempting to harden once again, too spent to do much else. “Think of this as only the appetizer. What I’m capable of… My hands on you, inside you, deep into your very soul, my Grace the only thing keeping you tethered… All you’ll know is me, at my purest.”

Slowly, Castiel rubs a soft circle over Dean’s stomach; Dean covers it with his own, links their fingers together. “If… If I tell you to stop, you’ll do it?” Dean asks, wary.

He bites back a moan when Castiel presses a kiss to his neck. “If I feel you hesitate at any time, or if you’re not fully here with me, I’ll pull out. I have no intention of hurting you.”

Dean nods with a content hum, settles deeper into both the mattress and Castiel’s hold. “Another time,” he yawns. His body softens the longer he lays there, the longer Castiel peppers kisses across his neck, their legs dovetailed atop the sheets. “Think you broke me with… whatever that was.”

“You’re far from broken,” Castiel soothes, holds him close.

 Just as Dean begins to drift off, he musters up the courage to ask, “…What were you marking me with, anyway?”

Castiel just laughs, low. “Holy oil.”

 _Great_ , now Dean’s never going to be able to look at holy oil the same way again.  “You’re gonna ruin me,” Dean groans. Still, he smiles when Castiel kisses him, Castiel’s soft praise the last thing he hears of before he falls under, blissful in sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I sure as hell can't write anything worthwhile but here's some one hour porn based off a prompt I saw in a Facebook group!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
